Flowers for New York
by Pendum
Summary: Alfred, a NYPD officer, finds a man by the name of Arthur Kirkland planting flowers in Central Park and around New York City. (UsUk)
1. Chapter 1

"What are you doing?"

The kneeling man's intense look of determination took the policeman off guard, his brows furrowing at the NYPD officer who stood over him.

"What does it _look_ like? I'm planting a flower, git."

Alfred F. Jones thought of himself as a respectable man. Over the years, his service in New York had put some hair on his chest, dealing with a lot of strange people and a lot of crazies. So of course, he didn't quite know what to do with the man on his knees in Central Park, planting petunias.

"Sir do you... Do you have a permit for that?"

This time the man gave him a look that made Alfred feel as stupid as he sounded. What was he supposed to do? What were they gonna say if he brought a man into the station for gardening? _Oh he was planting flowers illegally so I handcuffed him._

This isn't your backyard sir."

"Oh so it must be yours?"

The gardener responded back with dripping sarcasm. He looked awfully strange with a straw sun hat tied down and under his chin by a pale, pink ribbon. His slacks and loafers were smudged with dirt. He took off a glove to wipe his sweating hand on his green sweater vest, then taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at the moisture on his forehead.

 _This man only looks a few years older than me... But geez does he dress like an old man._

The man stood back up, tucking the handkerchief away and untying the hat. The little flowers swayed simply in a slight summer's breeze, protected by sticks stuck in the grass around them to keep from being trampled.

Alfred doubted they'd stop a bicyclist or crowd though. He had put the plant right in the middle of a popular path.

"You need to dig them back up."

"No."

"You need to remove them sir or I'll be forced to-"

"What, are you going to arrest me?"

Alfred could feel himself turning red, but the man turned indignantly to stoop down and water his petunias with a plastic bottle.

Alfred pulled his cap down on his hair with a huff. "Why'd you even plant them? Central Park has plenty of flowers, plenty of gardens. Why you going out here, with joggers and bicyclists and races?"

"They kicked me off the sidewalk."

"Huh?"

"I tried planting flowers in the little patches of grass around trees and on the strips around the pavement. In the city."

"Now why were you doin' that?"

"I have the right to remain silent."

Alfred sighed. He didn't really feel like explaining to him laws and how they worked and how his logic was askew, but he was still interested. What were the man's motives? He didn't seem like a hippie or a stoner. He had sharp features and messy blonde hair like a mop-head, with piercing green eyes.

"You seem too serious to be a tree-hugger..."

"I beg your pardon? Are you harassing me, officer?"

Alfred jumped, shaking his head wildly. He put his hands up in defense, eyes widening. "No sir what I meant was- I didn't mean to- I was thinking out loud!"

The man crossed his arms and raised one of his bushy brows in amusement. He had gotten one of the NYPD's men to fluster on duty just by screwing around.

"What's your name? I'm going to talk to your department about this."

Alfred swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing dreadfully.

"J-jones... Alfred Jones..."

"Well Mr. Jones, my name is Arthur Kirkland. Remember that if you can because if you forgot, you were about to write me up for loitering in a park or something ridiculous like that. You are very easy to manipulate, Officer."

He flicked the brim of Alfred's cap with a smirk, standing with his bag of gardening tools and empty pots slung around an arm.

Alfred was speechless, his mouth even hanging open slightly in a comical fashion. Arthur, unphased, had flipped the tables and slammed it down on the unexpecting policeman.

 _This man just made a fool out of me!_

"How about instead of reporting each other, we take a walk to my flat and you let me make you a cup of tea?"

 _And this man... Just invited me to his home?_


	2. Chapter 2

They got strange looks the entire time, even by New York standards (outside of glares). A man with dirty pants and a daisy print bag being escorted out of Central Park by the NYPD; escorted straight out of the city.

Arthur lived far far out, on the outskirts of outskirts, past crammed tenements and run down neighborhoods. The walk was hours worth (or what it felt like after the help of a taxi too), and Alfred was uncomfortable in his hot uniform and heavy equipment with the sun beating down. His cap was like an oven with sweat rolling down his forehead.

Was Arthur trying to walk him to exhaustion so he could get rid of him, have him killed, or sold into human trafficking? Was he trying to lead him away from the somewhat ironic safety of the big city and its hoards of people?

This was an outrageous situation as it was. A simple man couldn't best a NYPD officer and then bring him to his house. Alfred was stepping outside of protocol just by accepting the offer.

Arthur glanced back at his companion, barely winded.

"Come on, keep up lad."

He must've been quite used to this distance by now.

Alfred quickened his pace, though he still lagged from the weight of his gear, neither having an understanding of the force between them. They interested each other, baited one another, in a curious, new way. Arthur was a different kind of interesting, even for an officer who had seen quite about everything.

The sidewalk was crumbling by the time they stopped. Alfred was studying its brokenness; it's stains and cracks carefully before Arthur prodded his shoulder to look up.

"We're here."

They were standing at the steps of Arthur's red brick home. The rail was crooked and the door handle dented as Arthur loaded in the key. The house itself was well faded after facing years of rain, sun, and snow until the roof sagged slightly. But for its assumed age with just a few blemishes, it seemed well taken care of.

With a few jiggles the door creaked open, heavier than it appeared. Alfred stepped in, feeling like he had just entered a British vault. The first thing he realized was the room was decorated in Union Jacks.

Practically everything was red, white, and blue- but they weren't Stars and Stripes. The blanket hanging on the back of a white rocker, the flag draping over the fireplace, the rug. This man was practically an enthusiast. A picture of him with three other boys in front of Buckingham Palace hung crooked on the wall.

The second thing he realized was the room was a mess. Only a bit of the sitting area was organized- but papers and open letters with their envelopes tossed aside still plagued that front of the house. There were books open to graphs, maps hung on the wall with things pinned to certain areas. The coffee table was littered with bags, bottles, crumpled up notes. It was like a science lab shoved into a living room.

Arthur chewed on his nails, frowning. He hung his stuff on the back of the door before going over to sort quickly through the disarray, gathering the balled up papers and trash while cursing under his breath. Throwing those away, he then picked up an empty tea dish, cups lined with a ring of grime, and other empty mugs, taking those off to the kitchen and cursing louder.

"Sit where ever you like, but don't touch anything!", Arthur shouted from the other room.

Alfred looked around. There really wasn't anywhere else to sit besides the couch Arthur had cleaned off; everything was covered.

He gingerly took a seat, not realizing he had been clenching the truncheon at his belt. He didn't feel threatened, just... uncomfortable, nervous, out of place. Making some blunt relief came from knowing if he had to he could easily over power the smaller man.

 _Only if this situation called for it... Wait oh god, not THAT kind of situation, dammit brain!_

The tips of his ears turned pink and he cleared his throat even though no one was there to care. Curse his own dirty mind.

He sat there awkwardly tapping his foot, feeling overdressed and heavy still with his equipment. Strangely he hadn't gotten dispatched in quite some while, not a peep out of his mobile unit. He sighed, taking off his hat and putting it on top a stack of papers. Time seemed to drag on as his fidgeting got worse and the crashes louder in the kitchen. Had Arthur already begun to make the tea?

Perhaps he needed a little help. Two cups of tea didn't seem to take that long to make. So Alfred got up to check on Arthur, poking his head around the corner.

"Do you need any-?"

His couldn't believe what he was seeing, his mouth hanging open again like a child in awe. It was like he had walked into a jungle.

Plants grew out of everything. By everything, I mean everything. Sunflowers bent out a small window on a ledge, tapped to a meter-stick. Forget-me-nots blossomed out a cracked teacup. A large potted fern fanned over the counter. A vine had tangled down the kitchen sink and clogged the drain. Leaves jutted out of everything, from the cabinets, empty boxes, even an old toaster that no longer functioned.

There were petals everywhere and of every shade. There was so much color in the chaos, like a trapped storm, full of life.

They all seemed to lean out and brush Arthur's arms and legs, gently with their leaves, as he made his way towards Arthur with the tray and two glasses; one steaming and one chilled.

"I enjoy tea myself, but I figured you'd enjoy cool lemonade more after that hot walk. Thank god for that breeze while we were at the park, hm?"

_  
I understand the whole past and present tense thing but somewhere in my mind it sounds better this way than changing all the forms. Maybe I'm just a grammarless peasant, but spare me, you're still here reading, aren't you? Well if you are, thank you for baring through that for me.

Also, quite a change hm? Don't worry, Arthur isn't as peppy and messy as he's made out to be here. There will be an explanation, he's not terribly out of character. But I'd think any fanfiction where Arthur decides to live in the United States- on his own free will- is out of character, wouldn't you agree? /chuckle/

Anyways, more drabble, this fic is basically the essence of my sleep deprived writing. Enjoy~


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